Icarus
by MarbleGlove
Summary: Some successes are only measured in how long you last before falling. Hermione writes a letter and begins a relationship. Complete
1. a letter

I own none of these characters.   
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Icarus  
by MarbleGlove

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**  
Dear Sir,**

I write this letter with hope but no real expectation of a response. If nothing else, composing this letter has helped me to refine and more perfectly understand my own thoughts.   
  
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It was a terrible idea. Hermione knew that and made sure that she didn't forget it. At each stage of the process, she reminded herself of all the things that could go wrong and what the consequences would be. 1) Her friends could find out: they'd shun her and she's be social pariah once more. 2) Dumbledore could find out: she'd be expelled from Hogwarts for sure. 3) The Ministry could find out: a lengthy sentence in Azkaban, somewhere upwards of five years depending on what the exact charge was. 4) You-Know-Who could find out: probably something incredibly long and nasty involving Death Eaters and her ultimate death. 5),

Hermione paused in her internal recitation. No, the first four pretty much covered it. There were probably other things that could happen, but those were the significant ones.

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**Of all the Masters of Transfiguration alive today, you are the only expert in Controlled Self-Transfiguration. It is for this reason that I write you.**

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The idea had taken more than a month to implement and as she worked on it she had carefully thought out all the repercussions that were going to find her eventually, chew her up and spit her out. It's a sad fact that being smart does not keep you from having dumb ideas, it doesn't even stop you from acting on those ideas. No, it just allows you to know ahead of time exactly how bad the idea is. 

While the idea was bad, it was just too tempting to let go of. In it's own way, it was perfect. 

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**  
It is common knowledge that every portion of a body contains a map of the entire body. Polyjuice and related potions were first developed based on this understanding. However, no wizard has successfully managed to identify the map itself. Muggle scientists took nearly a millennium longer to realize that such a map exists, but in recent years they have managed to identify what is believed to be an encoded description.**

The encryption has not yet been broken, however several traits have been hypothesized. I find several of these theories to be of interest. It is generally believed that all living creatures beyond a certain point of development have a code that is the same length of markers, however only a portion of these markers are actually ordered in such a way as to encode significant information, leaving the remaining markers as random noise.

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The idea was certainly her own, and she could hardly blame anyone else for her deciding to carry the idea out, there were two turning points in her life that led up to where she was now.

The first involved her two best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. 

Harry had alternated between being depressed and being angry for most of their sixth year. In an effort to break his friend out of that this funk, Ron had suggested that the three of them work together to become animagi just as Harry's father and godfather, both now dead, had done. 

The suggestion was agreed upon and carried out, and while it was only partially successful in it's original goal, it did mean that the students didn't have to deal with an angry and sulking boy as much since the owls around the school now had to deal with an angry and sulking kestrel. Ron and Hermione had found themselves rather thankful that their own animals, horse and squirrel respectively, were land-based and thus couldn't have accompanied Harry even had they wished to. And it had given Hermione what turned out to be an extremely interesting topic to research. 

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**  
It is my contention that wizards or witches performing self-transfiguration such as the animagi transformations are actually modifying the codes within their body so as to use some of the unused sections of code to create a duplicate description of how their body should appear but in this case the rather than describing a human the description contains all the attributes and characteristics of an animal. There must then be some trick that allows an animagi wizard to tell his body which description it should be looking at.**

In contrast to the animagi transformations, I contend that most other self-transfigurations are not alternate sections of code but additional sections of code set up next to and continuing from the code that describes the original body. From what little I have heard of your own experiments I imagine that the meaningful code that describes your body and capabilities is significantly longer than most beings'.  
  
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The second turning point involved two of Hermione's professors, Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore. 

The struggle against the Dark Lord was increasingly intense and both of these professors, or more to the point, both of these Masters of Transfiguration, were busy working on defensive and offensive plans. Thus when an excited Hermione, loaded down with books and scrolls covered in notes, approached each of them in turn with a request for their supervision on a very exciting research project they had each suppressed a shudder and gently refused. 

While she understood their stated reasons, Hermione was somewhat miffed none the less. Here she had had a very interesting thought about repetitive human transfigurations and neither of the two transfiguration masters she knew would help her develop the idea.

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**  
I clearly see two possible results from further study in this area. **

The first is a cure for lycanthropy. As you know, animagi cannot be infected by werewolves. While werewolves will still attack an animagi if the animagi is in human form, the animagi need not fear catching lycanthropy. It seems to me that werewolves must contain within them the descriptions of the wolves they become and while it's not possible for an animagi to become a werewolf, I see no reason why a werewolf cannot become an animagi wolf, thereby gaining control over his own transformations.

The second goal of further study would be to further understand how the encryption works and how additional descriptions are added such as in your own transfigurations so that such transfigurations are made more simple, elegant, concise, and with fewer possibilities of unintended results. 

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It was at this point that the very bad idea first presented itself to her. 

There was another master of transfiguration in Britain, and it happened that one of his particular areas of interest was permanent human transfiguration and modification. 

The fact that he was evil, had tried to kill her best friend every year for six years running, and was so scary that people didn't like to even say his name aloud indicated that he would be a difficult person to approach in regards to advising on a research project. 

Difficult, of course, means much the same thing as challenging, and one of the common characteristics of Gryffindore students is they never back down from a challenge. 

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**  
I have studied a great deal and I have many ideas for further research into human transfiguration, but I am not a Transfiguration Master. What I most need now is an advisor who can point me in the right direction, oversee my progress, and double check my results. Until I have such a supervisor I feel that it would be both dangerous and pointless to continue.  
**  
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It took a month to figure out how to implement the very bad idea. 

Eventually she had also purchased a quantity of high quality vellum and the best and most elegant Dictoquill that was available. She didn't want to insult a powerful dark arts practitioner by using less than the best to correspond with him, but even more importantly, she didn't want to use anything that would hint at her real identity -- not her usual paper, not her usual ink, and certainly not her own handwriting. She had also arranged for a Post Coop Box, useful for sending and receiving mail anonymously. 

She rented the P.C. Box and signed her letter with the same name of Icarus, for surely she was trying to fly to the sun with wings of wax and it was only time before she came crashing down. When she had first realized that she would need a nom de plum for this idea to work, she had thought of the story of Icarus who, given wings to fly to safety, had chosen instead to fly to the sun. He had died for it. It was a stupid idea and he had known it, and yet sometimes making the attempt was more important than reaching the goal. Some successes were only measured in how long you lasted before falling. 

It was a terrible idea. It was going to get in her into so much trouble, she knew, but oh, if it worked for even a little while, it would be worth it. 

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**  
With great respect,**

I name myself,

Icarus

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Wearing gloves, Hermione slipped the letter into the envelope and melted a wax seal over it before carefully pressing the insignia she had purchased from a muggle store. The imagine was of a man with wings falling. It was intended to be Icarus but could just as easily be a fallen angel. 

She had previously addressed the envelope. Now she just needed to get it to the Owlery before anyone else saw it. Not looking at either the address or the insignia, she picked up the letter in one gloved hand and used a few quick spells to neaten her desk, leaving behind no evidence that anything had been written.

It would be in it's recipients hands before nightfall. Only time would tell what would happen then.

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**To Lord Voldemort, The Dark Lord  
**


	2. a response

I own none of these characters

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Icarus  
by MarbleGlove

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**Dear Icarus,  
**  
**Flattery works on both the high and the low, and I am pleased to be known as the living expert on Controlled Self-Transfigurations. You obviously know of the mixed results I have had from my various attempts along these lines, although I believe I have achieved more than any wizard before me.  
**  
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When Lord Voldemort had placed wards around the orphanage one night to allow none exit and then burned the building to the ground, the minister had not been inside. Over the years, the minister had bored all the children with his lengthy sermons and his moralizing about reputing all earthly gains and placing ones faith in a higher power, however it was only Tom Riddle who was beaten for being possessed of a demon. 

Tom Riddle had seen no reason to trust in a higher power and apparently no higher power had seen a reason to stop the beatings. So while the orphanage burned, the minister was not allowed what little mercy lay in a fiery death but had instead died a week after his disappearance. No body was ever found. No higher power had stopped that from happening either. 

None the less, the idea of higher powers had stayed with Tom Riddle. Since he had seen no evidence of such a power already existing, then in his transformation into Lord Voldemort he decided that he would become such a power. 

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**Frequently what it means to be an expert is to have a better idea than most as to what one does not know and a feeling about how to go about correcting that ignorance.   
**  
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The realization that a prophesy foretold his own fate infuriated Lord Voldemort for here at last was a higher power acting in his life but it was on the wrong side. It fought against his ideals rather than aided them. He became ever more determined to make of himself something omniscient and omnipotent. He didn't even consider omnibenevolent. 

After all of his studying though, it was his death that taught him the fine manipulations of intangible fate and the incredible patience necessary for a spirit to manipulate matter. It sent him a little closer to madness as it increased his abilities and power tenfold. 

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**  
The theory behind the One Wizard One Animal Form rule has never been well established and gaining a better understanding of this would be a useful achievement. You also appear to have a good starting point for your research with the interactions between animagi and lycanthropes. **

As should be clear from my politics, I do not follow muggle science, and I remain dubious of the value of any scientific discovery. However, I believe that anything, whether muggle, wizarding, or demonic, can be an inspiration for greater thoughts and ideas. If you discover the map of the body then you will surely win great acclaim for yourself.

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While death had given him the ability and the experience of flexing intangible powers, it did not, much to his frustration, give him the understanding of the finer details needed to perfect his results. Thus the first body he made for himself was a miserable shriveled thing barely capable of containing his spirit. His second attempt was closer to the mark, but it was still a far cry from the desired outcome. It was good enough though to continue the fight, to rally his Death Eaters, and to bring about the defeat of his enemies. Intense research was needed before he could again try to shape his form without fear of making matters worse and he knew from experience that he could not both research this problem and head a successful revolution at the same time. The revolution came first. 

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**What you have written to me has certainly peaked my interest and I volunteer myself as your advisor. You may send your thoughts and questions to me upon the understanding that you also send me your results and discoveries.  
**  
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Fate and prophesies were always double edged, and he knew the capabilities of this to backfire. But all such dark manipulations could backfire and he had studied the dark arts for more than fifty years and was still here to tell the tale. Albus Dumbledore might think it madness if ever he learned that Lord Voldemort did this, his Death Eaters would think it arrogance, but Lord Voldemort knew it to be the well deserved confidence of a master of his art. He felt no qualms or worry as he spoke his desire for information and sent it out into the world.

He had sat in deep meditation for a week and carefully pulled the strings of fate, forming an almost-prophesy, much as he had done to summon first Quirrel and then Wormtail t his side. He created an opening in the world that could only be filled by one of his Death Eaters, and then he had waited. Twice, fate had brought to his side loyal wizards to fill the void created. 

This was a much more complicated request. He desired knowledge. Knowledge had to be contained in something or someone, but Lord Voldemort didn't want to restrict that, so long as the knowledge came. But he, himself, was the only wizard who had anything close to the knowledge that he needed. So it wasn't even knowledge, but the potential for knowledge that he called for into the aether. After request was sent out he forced himself to think of other things.

It was nearly a year later that an owl glided over him and dropped a letter in his hand. 

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**  
As my first act as an advisor, I suggest you read Wizarding Animals: Centaurs, Mermen, and Naga by Phineus Darwin. If you can find a copy, also The Creature Creations of Helga Hufflepuff by Francis Styne, paying particular attention to the chapters on hippogriffs and griffins.**

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Lord Voldemort had laughed as he first read the letter from Icarus. It was a high pitched giggle that seemed more the laugh of a malicious schoolboy tormenting some small creature than it did the laugh of a Dark Lord. 

Manipulations of fate were more subtle and less controllable than casting Imperio, but they were also much more thorough if given time to properly sink in. Fate couldn't force someone to act against their will, but it could nudge a person in the right direction. Fate had done it's work, his request had been met, now it was time to gently, gently offer temptation and lure this wizard, this Icarus, to his side.

He took care in his response. He had spent seven years as the top student at Hogwarts, and a further thirty years deepening his knowledge of the dark arts with other scholars around the world and with his own studies. One thing he was very capable of was hiding his political leanings and giving the appearance of mere scholarly ambition. For a time. Until it was too late for the other to back out. 

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**  
For the time I will allow you your anonymity although I think eventually we will meet and speak as colleagues. Given this present distance however, I think you would not accept any present from me and thus I will tell you merely the titles of books I suggest that you read to further your studies rather than sending you any texts from my personal library. Some of these you may have difficulty finding elsewhere and you may request them from me at any time.   
**  
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Lord Voldemort remembered when he was still just Tom Riddle but he was already discovering the secrets of Slytherin. He had been terrified when he had gone down into the Chamber of Secrets for the first time and the terror had stayed when he returned the second time and the time after that. But he had suppressed the fear and now he didn't even know when it had actually gone away. He had gone down there and he had kept his eyes shut, resisting the urge to peak. He had sung lullabies over and over again in parseltongue until his mouth was dry and his voice rasped.

Eventually the basilisk had become accustomed to his presence. In it's loneliness and desire for a purpose, any purpose, the basilisk had followed every suggestion Tom had given it. After that, when he had gone down to the Chamber of Secrets he had kept his eyes open and looked around and it was the basilisk who lowered its gaze to avoid harming the boy.

Power, purposelessness, and loneliness were a heady combination in beast or man, and from it, Lord Voldemort knew, he could create devotion. He would give knowledge and a sense of purpose to Icarus, and in return he would receive everything.

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I remain as ever,

Lord Voldemort

Master of Transfiguration,  
Master of Divination,  
Master of the Dark Arts  
Master of the Unspoken  
Dark Lord and Leader of the Death Eaters


	3. a complication

I own none of these characters

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Icarus

by MarbleGlove

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**Dear Mr. Icarus,**

**Please forgive an old man for writing without a proper introduction. I have recently been made aware of your research into a cure for lycanthropy.**

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Day One  
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"Severus, stay after. I want your expertise."

The Dark Lord always mingled with his followers before a meeting as he waited for everyone to gather. The end of a meeting was always much more abrupt. The only exceptions were when a few people were asked to stay behind. It was an honor and it always involved a challenge of some sort.

For the first time in several years, Severus felt real excitement welling up inside of him. The Dark Lord was competent in potions. If he needed help, then it was in a truly masters level problem. Such problems were his one real joy in life.

Lord Voldemort and Dumbledore both referred to Severus Snape as their spy. Severus did not, however, think of himself that way. The term spy seemed to imply a person having loyalty to one side and tricking the other side. Given that both of his masters were accomplished legilimens, that just wasn't possible. And if he were capable of tricking one, then he would be capable of tricking the other and neither was willing to take his loyalty on faith. Thus his safety rather depended on him being a tool rather than a person. Severus considered himself something of a barometer. A useful way for both of his masters to keep up-to-date on the situation with the other side, but neither of them could or would trust him with anything they wanted to remain secret.

So Severus attended both Death Eater gatherings and Order of the Phoenix meetings and generally served as a semiofficial witness to the greatness of each side. All things considered, it was rather tedious.

For the time being, though, he was virtually untouchable by both sides, given his status as a Potions Master. While both the Headmaster and the Dark Lord had multiple masteries, masteries were rare, and potions masters were one of the most rare. It took time and dedication as well as ability to gain any mastery, and potions had a reputation as boring and a reality of being dangerous, often fatally so. Severus Snape was the only Potions Master in Britain and both sides wanted him around.

Of course, he would lose whatever protection his knowledge gave him, if he ever showed more loyalty for one side than he did for the other. He had had to be ruthless with himself to become a Potions Master, dedicating himself to it's study to the exclusion of all else, and now he had to be ruthless with himself to remain alive, dedicating himself once more to his potions, to the exclusion of all moral opinions. Sometimes he felt he was hardly a man anymore, merely a repository of potions knowledge.

After the meeting, he sat in a comfortable chair by a fire in some small parlor room of the Dark Lord's mansion and read the five letters that were given to him. Three were from a man named Icarus written to the Dark Lord, two of them were the Dark Lord's responses. They were obviously the most recent letters in a lengthy correspondence and several times he had to ask the Dark Lord to explain a reference.

It was times like these when the Dark Lord offered Severus the opportunity to stretch his intellect and his knowledge to it's extremes that he remembered why he had joined the Death Eaters in the first place.

Severus vented a long appreciative sigh when he finally set the last of the pages down in front of him. "Brilliant."

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**If you read The Daily Prophet then you are aware that I have a great deal of sympathy for those who have been turned into werewolves. In fact, the man who created the Wolfsbane Potion is a close friend and colleague of mine. The prospect of a cure for this condition is quite exciting and I am anxious to hear what you have been researching.**

**I hope that I might have some expertise, either personally or from a member of my staff, that I might offer you in return.**

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Day Two  
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"So Voldemort has assigned someone to research Self-Transfiguration for him."

"No."

"No?"

"The Dark Lord doesn't know who Icarus is."

Dumbledore gaped at his spy. After a long moment he managed to close his mouth and then open it again. "What?"

"Icarus is not that common of a name. No one who bears that name wrote those letters. The Post Coop is good at keeping anonymity and the Dark Lord uses it enough himself that he doesn't want to hurt that in any way. While all the letters I saw were polite, none of them were chatty. The only personal information that the Dark Lord has is that Icarus' parents are still alive and have chosen, for reasons unmentioned, to live in the muggle world. Given the fact of this correspondence, I can only assume they wanted to be out from under the eye of any Ministry Aurors. Whoever Icarus is, he's keeping a very low profile."

"Except for the fact that he's corresponding with Lord Voldemort." Dumbledore's reply was unusually dry.

Snape nodded his acceptance of that caveat. "Aside from that." There was a glint of what might be amusement in his eye.

"Okay. What are the specifics of the research?"

"As best I can tell, it's a combination of transfiguration and potions, based on the fact that Icarus has somehow made a breakthrough in identifying the body map."

"Merlin!"

"Indeed. They seem to be working mostly towards a cure for lycanthropy on the premise that since the problem is obvious, the solution might be less subtle than anything needed to correct the Dark Lord's current body."

Dumbledore hummed his agreement.

"Also, there's much more opportunity for experimentation. It won't be that long before the Dark Lord starts trying to either capture werewolves or make his own."

Dumbledore winced. "What were you needed for?"

"If the Wolfsbane Potion is made incorrectly, it calls up the werewolf and makes it even more violent. Or, of course, it kills the recipient. They have an idea to modify the potion, however, apparently to be taken in the dark of the moon, rather than at the full moon. It would still suppress the violent tendencies as the current potion does, but it would call up the physical form without quite forcing a change. Then the recipient would cast a variation of the animagi transformation on himself. I couldn't follow the spell work outlined, but they are doing some very interesting things with the potions work. I spent most of the night answering questions, making suggestions, and helping compose the Dark Lord's next letter."

At the thought, Snape yawned. It had been a very long day of classes with only three hours of sleep the night before. Later he would use his pensive to remember exactly what was said and written that night and work further on the many ideas that whirled through his head. For now, he just wanted to get this meeting with Dumbledore out of the way and go to sleep. Dumbledore had started speaking again though.

"Despite everything, I was pleased when Riddle decided to try to take over the wizarding world rather than delve further into researching and developing the dark arts. They are a hard field to master and thoughts of what a brilliant wizard like Riddle could do kept me up at nights before he became Lord Voldemort. His followers hedge him in."

Severus suppressed another yawn and tried to look attentive.

"How in the name of Merlin have I not heard of a brilliant dark arts researcher before now? Someone who found the map of man and is using it. There's only so low profile a researcher like this can be. If nothing else, he has to have a good wizarding library available to him and those are not readily available. Lord Voldemort has one, I have one here at Hogwarts, the Malfoy family library, the Bone family library, and not much else within the British isles."

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**To avoid putting you in an awkward position, I will also admit that I am aware of your correspondence with Voldemort, who I have a public stance against. However, given the direction of your research I am forced to believe that a good deed in the name of evil is still probably good.**

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Day Three  
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Hermione received mail rather frequently. Not only was she corresponding with the Dark Lord, but she had also asked her parents to sign her up for a muggle correspondence course in basic genetics from the local community college. Given that she had never taken any biology courses before, it was tough going; her parents frequently sent her reference books to help her catch up.

To avoid suspicion by her class mates, Hermione treated all of her mail the same way. She opened it up as soon as she received it at breakfast in the Great Hall, scanned the contents and then placed the letter in her bag for further study later. She didn't think the Dark Lord was intent on cursing her in some way via his letters, and if he was, she didn't think any curse would manage to slip by the goblins who ran the Post Coop and had strict instructions not to forward anything containing even the least bit of magic. However, if she were wrong, and if she were going to trigger some booby trap, she would definitely prefer it to happen in the presence of as many people as possible to increase her chance of rescue.

Thus it was that on a particular day in April, while listening to Harry and Ron discuss some girl in Hufflepuff, Hermione opened a letter. The letter was not one from the dark lord and she didn't expect anything else to particularly trouble her. She soon realized her error.

Hermione recognized the handwriting but didn't immediately place it. When she looked at the signature at the end of the letter, though, she started giggling nervously. She quickly scanned the content of the letter and the laughter continued to bubble up uncontrollable. She could certainly feel more than a tinge of hysteria contained in the laughter and given the looks the people around her were giving her, they could hear it too. Oh Lord, she was in so much trouble.

It was like going fishing for trout and catching a shark. Except in her case and she had been fishing for shark and she wasn't sure what she had just caught but it more resembled a great blue whale than it did a trout. The image made her laugh even harder and she gasped for breath.

Laughing, she clutching the letter in her hand, holding onto her aching stomach as the rest of the Great Hall fell silent and turned to stared at her in bemusement.

When Professor McGonagall tried to usher her out to the infirmary, or to at least get a look at the letter that had affected her in such a way, she finally got a modicum of control over herself. She tucked the letter into an inside pocket of her cloak and, still burbling slightly, stood and climbed up on the bench where she had been sitting. She raised her glass of pumpkin juice high. Everyone waited to hear what she had to say.

"I propose a toast. To Fred and George Weasely, may their spirits live on forever."

"Forever." "Fred and George" "George and Fred" "Forge and Gred" "Gred and Forge" "Pranks forever."

Practically the entire student body joined in the toast. The first years, most of whom had never me the twins, looked confused. The teachers looked disturbed as they foresaw and outburst of pranks in the near future. Headmaster Dumbledore merely chuckled to himself thinking that after the disturbing news he had heard from Severus, some amusing pranks might be just what he needed to raise his spirits.

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**Sincerely yours,**

**Albus Dumbledore**

**Master of Transfiguration**  
**Master of Alchemy**  
**Master of Defense Against the Dark Arts**  
**Order of Merlin, First Class**  
**Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards**  
**Headmaster of Hogwarts**


	4. a slippery slope

I own none of these characters

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Icarus  
by MarbleGlove

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**Dear Headmaster Dumbledore,**

I was certainly surprised to receive your letter. Upon consideration though, I realize that it comes as a gift from Merlin.   
  
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Hermione didn't think she had ever been so furious in her life, and certainly not with Headmaster Dumbledore. What had started out as astonished amusement (with some hysteria) at having received a letter from the Headmaster, turned into curiosity as to how he had known to send the letter, and then into fury when she realized the answer. 

The Dark Lord's letter, which arrived the day after Dumbledore's, let her know that he had consulted with Potions Master Severus Snape in order to work out some of the kinks in the lycanthrope potion they were designing. Dumbledore had to have learned of Icarus' existence from Professor Snape. All it would take was one comment in her next letter to the Dark Lord and he would know that Professor Snape was a traitor to the Death Eaters. Dumbledore had to have known that when he wrote that letter and yet he still wrote it.

After so many years of defending the Professor to her friends, telling them that they owed the Professor their respect, she was furious that the Headmaster of all people would value the Professor so lightly. The very least the Headmaster could have done was hold off on sending the letter for a month or two so it wasn't quite so obvious where his information had come from. 

It was the fury that had her deciding to respond to the letter. Before this, she had given the Headmaster blind and total respect. If there was something worrying her or one of her friends, they should go to the Headmaster who would know the answer and fix everything. When he turned down her request for supervision on a project, she had been disappointed but understood that he had more important things to do. But with this letter, the Headmaster was for once thoroughly and utterly at fault.

Originally she had intended to ignore the letter, believing that responding to the letter would immediately give all her secrets away. It was obvious now that Dumbledore was far from perfect. 

Hermione pressed her lips together in a tight smile. He was just a man. And, she ran her eyes down his letter one more time, he had fewer masteries than the Dark Lord. 

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**As you know, your friendship of the werewolf Remus Lupin is a well documented fact. I am presently in need of two potions ingredients that you are best placed to collect, if you so desire: the hair of a werewolf during the dark of the moon, thus, a werewolf in human form, and the hair of a werewolf during the full moon, thus a werewolf in wolf form. I am curious to see what happens if these hairs are used in polyjuice.   
**  
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Hermione smirked as she composed her response to the Headmaster. With Lord Voldemort she had to be careful to not show any weakness or temptation towards the dark arts. It had quickly become clear that he was intent upon seducing her towards the dark and if she wanted a chance in hell of not falling, she had to be strict with herself and show no opening in her defenses. 

Dumbledore, on the other hand, was thoroughly on the side of the light, and she rather thought, given his letter, brief though it was, that he was intent upon seducing her back to the light. That, a good deed in the name of evil is still good implied to her that he didn't necessarily think she was doing good, but was trying to guide her towards being good, convince her that she could be good. And, of course, set himself up as the arbitrator of what good is. 

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**The first experiment would be to use wolf-form hair in a polyjuice and apply it during the dark of the moon. It will be interesting to see if the recipient transforms into the wolf that the hair came from (or at least shows wolf-like traits, given that polyjuice isn't intended for full animal transformations) or if the recipient transforms into the human form of the werewolf, given the state of the moon. **

The second experiment would be to use the human-form hair in a polyjuice and apply it during a full moon. Does the recipient turn into a wolf or into a man?

Of course, both of these two experiments run the risk of permanently turning the recipient into a werewolf. However, the knowledge regarding whether that happens or not would also be interesting feedback. 

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**  
**To Dumbledore, she could safely voice all of her darker ideas and know that he would attempt to restrain her rather than encourage her. And she might be able to get real feedback on it, too. And she didn't have to tell him that she was not prepared to actually perform these experiments, nor that she had absolutely no intention of telling the Dark Lord of these ideas. 

It would be interesting to see what the arbitrator of all that it light would say in response. Would he give up on as being too dark? Would he try all the more to save her from herself? Or would he compromise his principles and go along with her ideas?

Anyway, she had an inkling that some of these experiments had already been run, but that the results were in the books that she didn't feel competent to read. Some dark arts books were dangerous to the touch, much less actual studying. A Master of Defense Against the Dark Arts would know about them, though, and could let her know. ****

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**  
A third experiment requires a hair from some non-werewolf placed in polyjuice, but then the potion applied to a werewolf directly before the rising of a full moon. Does the werewolf transform immediately or does the transformation await the loss of the polyjuice image?**

Depending on the outcomes of the second and third experiments, a fourth experiment might be to have a werewolf drink polyjuice containing his own hair, harvested during the dark of the moon. 

I am sure you can contact Remus Lupin or some other, less infamous, werewolf to discuss the gathering of the potions ingredients or possibly the implementation of the experiments. I can certainly understand that you might be wary of trusting such experiments to either the Dark Lord or an anonymous corespondent.   
  
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No matter how hidden Remus Lupin was, Dumbledore, or rather whoever the official Headmaster of Hogwarts was, could always send him a letter. Hogwarts was famous for it's ability to correctly address letters to anyone anywhere. All you needed was a name. 

Well, actually, you also needed an idea of some distinguishing characteristic that identified the person you wanted a letter to go to from the various other people who might share the same name. Although that was generally only necessary when owling muggles. The wizarding community was small enough that duplicate names among the living were very rare. A wizard might share a name with a historical figure, but it was highly unlikely that they'd share a name with another wizard living down the road. 

It was a very good thing, Hermione thought, that only existed as a name on a P.C. Box. No matter how good the owls of Hogwarts were, Icarus lived as a P.C. Box, to the extent that he lived at all. He was a very useful cypher, as Hermione had no desire for the Headmaster to see his owl, or possibly even his phoenix, deliver his letter to one of his students, i.e. her. 

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**I have included in this letter a summary of the research I and the Dark Lord have done, the results we have achieved, and the avenues we are intent upon exploring further. Any thoughts or ideas that you might have would be greatly appreciated.**

I look forward to receiving your next communication.  
  
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While she was looking forward to seeing what response this letter garnered if any, she was also rather relieved that she could send all of her research and ideas to someone who would understand it and use it for good. She had every intention of publishing and making her discoveries available to the general public as soon as she had some real confirmed results, but it was nice to know that even if she died before that happened, her current work would not be monopolized by someone who was so definitely evil as the Dark Lord was. 

Hermione raked a hand through her hair with exasperation. It had become a habit for her whenever she thought about the fact that her corespondent, whose letters she really enjoyed was evil. She tried not to think about that too much beyond making the precautions against being killed by him. On the other side of things, she wasn't all that impressed by the Headmaster's letter, but at least he was definitively on the side of good. It would be nice to consult someone who was good for a change. 

If she were honest with herself, and she did try to be, it was also rather fun to tweak the Headmaster's nose a bit. had apparently become someone of sufficient interest and importance for the Headmaster to write a letter. Hermione Granger, on the other hand, was just a student who's project on the possible interaction of muggle and wizarding science did not rate the time for supervision.

Hermione shook her head with mock censor, all alone in her room. The things kids get up to when they aren't properly supervised is really quite shocking. 

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**I name myself,**

Icarus


	5. a hesitation

I own none of these characters.

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Icarus

by MarbleGlove

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**Dearest Hermione,**

**Your father and I discussed the ****"****hypothetical situation****"**** you asked about in your last letter, but neither of us are really sure how to advise you. Few things in life are cut and dried. And, I feel obliged to point out, your description was rather vague. It's obvious that you're troubled by it though and so we will do our best to advise you.**

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_What do I do now?_

Hermione realized she had made a miscalculation in her original analysis of the situation. She had picked her pseudonym to remind herself that really this correspondence could not last forever. Eventually she was going to plummet into an unforgiving ground. She had known that and accepted that eventually she would have to face the consequences of her actions, whatever those consequences were.

What she had not considered was the fall itself. The point in time when she was losing control but could still make some effort to do something, if only she knew what she should do. The point where she was no longer in control but she hadn't hit ground yet. It was maddening.

There was too much information to analyze. Her research, as advanced and complex as it was, was not the simplest thing about her correspondences.

She paced back and forth, back and forth. What do I do?

The turning point had been responding to Dumbledore. Suddenly keeping track of who knew what using what terminology became infinitely more complicated. The Dark Lord knew all of her research, including the fact that it was based off of muggle science. He did not know that she was also corresponding with Dumbledore and getting further information and advice from him.

Dumbledore on the other hand knew all of the findings of her research, but did not know that it was originally based on the muggle discovery of DNA. So she had to be careful not to use any muggle terms when corresponding with him. However, he did know that she was also corresponding with the Dark Lord and thus that she was getting further information and advise from him.

In this little triangle of research she had created, each person had different motivations, each person knew different subsets of the truth, and each person was trying to achieve something different. Keeping up with it all was surely going to drive her mad.

Hermione threw herself into a chair and wrapped her arms around herself. She didn't know what to do. She just wanted the end to happen. Whatever was going to happen to her, have it just happen already. On the other hand, she wasn't willing to just give up.

She sniffed and wanted to throw something. She was only eighteen! Somebody should come and tell her what to do. She didn't know what to do.

What to do. What to do. What to do.

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**You are a bright girl with a strong moral code, I know, but you are also very curious and that is not always a good thing. If you are afraid of succumbing to temptation, the best advice I can give you is for you to find someone you trust and tell them everything. Let their moral sense help support yours. Sometimes the person being tempted doesn't have the perspective needed to know when they are falling and when they are standing firm. Find a friend who is not being tempted and allow that friend to guide you.**

**I would also point out that if you are breaking some rule (and I have the distinct impression that you are) then you are much more likely to be forgiven if you confess before being forced to it. It is a fact of life that the first person to tell their story is generally the one who is believed. If you have friends who you want to keep, tell them what you are doing and why now, rather than allowing them to find out from someone else.**

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"Okay. You can say something now." Hermione was nervous. She had finally confessed everything to her two best friends after making them promise to listen until she was done. Upon reflection, the promise might not have been necessary as their lower jaws no longer seemed to be attached to their heads.

After a long pause Harry finally gulped and said, "I'm not entirely sure what I'm supposed to say now. You're, you're not going over to Voldemort, are you?"

Ron elbowed Harry in the side and interrupted Hermione's vehement denial, "Don't be daft, mate. She's way too bossy to be some Dark Lord's minion."

Harry blinked and then grinned. "You've got a point. I can't quite picture our Hermione bowing down and kissing someone's boots. It's much, much easier imagining her making someone else kiss her boots."

Hermione's stomach was slowly unknotting. A tentative quirk of her mouth showed the beginning of a grin. "Who are you imagining, Draco Malfoy?"

"Oooh. Draco Malfoy," Ron obviously beguiled at the image.

"I don't think that was a good idea, Hermione. Now he'll be rooting for you to turn evil just so that he can see Malfoy kissing your boots."

"Alas. I think he's bound for disappointment. I have no immediate plans to turn evil."

"That's probably a good thing despite the obvious benefits. Ah well. If your plan ever does change let me know. I call first dibs on the role of right-hand-man."

"I say. That's no fair! I was distracted by thoughts of a groveling Malfoy. I want to be her right-hand-man."

"Don't worry about it, Ron. If I ever decide to go evil, I'll let both of you know and then we can all go evil together and take over the wizarding world as The Dark Triumvirate. Dun-dun-dun." Hermione's voice gone low and melodramatic for the last part of her statement. Soon they were all snickering together.

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**You've told us about how ****"****muggleborns****"**** are looked down upon in wizarding society, and while I know that you are the best and brightest girl in all the world, if there is any truth to the matter it is this: that your parents can't advice you about the magic you perform. While we will always be here to support you, and give you whatever help we can, there are some things that you will have to work out for yourself.**

**A lot of what growing up means is getting into situations that you're not completely comfortable with and learning as you go. You would never learn anything if you never did anything new. In order to achieve expand your horizons sometimes you have to go beyond your current comfort zone. This isn't to say that you should put yourself into dangerous situations. If what you're doing is truly dangerous, then don't do it. But if it's just uncomfortable, then don't let fear hold you back.**

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"But Hermione, are you performing the dark arts? I mean, it's funny to joke about you being a dark lord -- lady -- lord -- whatever -- but I don't actually think you should be using the dark arts. At least not regularly. Mad-Eye Moody said that it could be easy to fall into really bad habits."

Hermione nibbled her lip as was her wont when she was organizing her thoughts. Harry and Ron recognized the act and waited for her response. "No, not really I'm researching the dark arts and so I'm coming into contact with some dark magic through the books that I've been reading, but I've been really careful to avoid the seriously booby trapped books, and I certainly haven't been performing any of the spells. And the Headmaster has sent me some advice on how to research the dark without succumbing. There are some advanced defense techniques that I've been using ever since he wrote me about them. Not only do I not want to become evil, but I also don't want to get in trouble with the professors here at Hogwarts."

Hermione thought she was being reasonable and serious and didn't know why her two friends laughed at that. They just didn't take school rules seriously. Although, admittedly she didn't have much room to criticize them given her own recent extracurricular activities. Okay, perhaps it was slightly funny. She quirked a small smile. They seemed to be reassured that she wasn't going to go evil on them, though.

"Actually," Ron sat up suddenly, "this could be a really good thing."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Yeah. I'm almost at a cure for werewolves."

"No, I mean beyond that. Although I have to admit that's a very nice thing. Lupin will be glad. But anyway, you have an insight into the way You-Know-Who thinks and since Harry will need to fight him at some point, anything we know could be really helpful."

Harry sighed. "Just what I need, more insight into the mind of a psychotic killer. After all the trouble I went to in order to stop sharing mental space. Ah well," he spoke half-mockingly but half-seriously as well. "Ron's right. Let's see what we can figure out."

"Well, there's not much personal information there. I mean, we've been discussing advanced transfiguration and potions not what our favorite foods are." That earned a snort of laughter from Harry. "But I'll show you what I've got."

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**Your father and I will love and support you no matter what decision you make. We know that you're caught up in the politics and conflict of the wizarding world but know that you can always find refuge in the muggle world. You don't have to confine yourself to a world made up of less than a million people. The wizarding world is fun and exciting, I know, and it was important that you learned how to control your magic, but the real world is still out here waiting. It's larger and more diverse than the world you're currently in and it will always be here for you.**

**Your father is looking at muggle universities for you and, I warn you now, will expect you to at least look through the literature he's collecting.**

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The four people she trusted most in the world, the four people who's good opinion mattered most to her, had all given their permission for her to go to her limit. Hermione paced back and forth in her room. She had been so sure that someone would have told her to stop.

She wondered if they even knew that's what they had done. They trusted her to know where to draw the line and to have the control it took to stop there. They trusted her.

The problem was that she wasn't sure that she trusted herself.

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**We can't wait to see you again.**

**Love always,**

**Mom**


	6. a success

I own none of these characters.   
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Icarus  
by MarbleGlove

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**Dear Icarus,**

I know that I am one of many who have written you since your cure for lycanthropy was made public. This fact gives me courage in writing to you for I know I am not alone in my feelings or reactions. I doubt that I am the first person to tell you my thoughts, either.

I don't know whether I love you or hate you more, but you have certainly taught me the truth of the old saying: be careful what you wish for.  
  
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Lord Voldemort was alone in this chambers laying out a tarot reading. It was one of his nightly rituals -- helping him keep track of the direction his plans were going and the possible responses of his enemies. He smiled as he laid down the card of Death. It appeared in every chart he cast. It almost always stood for himself. 

The stupid members of the Death Eaters found that scary and thought he was death personified. The more intelligent found it disturbing because it showed him a chaotic force for chance. It wasn't death that he personified but his own revolution. He would rip the wizarding world apart and transform it into something different.

Lord Voldemort had made of himself a symbol. He was going to change the world and every good revolution needed, not just a leader, but an ideal that they could worship and strive to emulate. He was both.

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**You have offered me my greatest wish, a cure from being a werewolf. A cure that did not involve my death. I have longed for such a cure for nigh on thirty years and now a nameless man working with the enemy of the wizarding world has offered it to me and to all those similarly afflicted. **

I am in your debt. Whether I accept your offered cure or deny it, I am in your debt for what you have offered. 

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As he laid down the next card he thought of Icarus.

Lord Voldemort thought with some fondness of his dear correspondent. Although Icarus was a masculine name, he had come to think of Icarus as female, using the feminine article in his own thoughts. Young and feminine but with an immense power that she did not understand. Yet. 

Had she begun to realize that the sense of purpose that seemed to radiate from her letters could easily seduce followers to her command? Her discoveries would leave debtors in her wake? Few people have a real sense of purpose and they would do anything to get one. That was, after all, the secret of his own success. People would follow him because he was willing to lead. People were in debt to him because he was willing to act. His cause would win, too, because the Ministry was unable and Dumbledore unwilling to be a true leader to the masses. 

Dear Icarus who had first written to him asking for him to lead her to knowledge. She wanted someone to lead her and he would do so, but she would find it increasingly difficult to find anyone else willing to guide her. Instead people would turn to her asking for guidance, would accept her decisions. Even when she hesitated, her certainty of purpose was still stronger than most when they were at their most decisive. Any doubts she had merely marred the surface of her certainty rather than be the dry rot that inflicted so many. 

As she grew stronger and more confident in herself, she tied herself with ever tighter bonds to his leadership. If she wanted to be lead, it would be by him alone, and she would bring with her all who had been caught up in her sphere of influence. 

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**  
I am weak, for I have deepened my debt to you by accepting. I am no longer a werewolf. I performed the cure with the help and supervision of Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore. Your cure worked, and I have walked under the light of the full moon as a man for the first time in my adult life. **

I find myself smiling and enjoying a freedom I had thought never to have for all that I fear what this freedom shall ultimately cost me and mine. Through my fear, I smile.   
  
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People wanted to be sheep, they wanted to be told what to do and they did not want to have to think about it.

He had gained followers without even trying. And they never questioned him, even when he did something damn foolish. He made an effort to be scary, but it wasn't fear that kept them quiet, or at least not fear of him. They wanted him to be perfect and all-powerful, and they feared that if they questioned him they might discover he was not. Every foolish thing he had ever done they explained away as him having deeper motivations than they could see or understand, but certainly never as a mistake. They wanted desperately to put their faith somewhere, to create honor for themselves in the service of something great. 

A bunch of atheists yearning to act for the greater glory of God.

Voldemort giggled his high-pitch laughter, alone in his room with only his tarot cards and his thoughts to keep him company. Wizards were just as stupid as muggles, he thought, for all that they held more power. They wanted a lord and he would give them one -- Lord Voldemort, whose very name could not be spoken aloud. 

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**  
You have not only achieved a miraculous cure, but in giving it freely to the wizarding world without demanding payment in galleons, you have earned yourself payment in debts owed to you. I wish you had demanded a fortune in gold and then I could have raised the money with a clear conscience and owed my debt to the goblins of Gringotts.**

Instead, I owe you a favor larger than I can imagine, and such debts between wizards are binding. 

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Icarus was an exception. She was different from everyone else he had contact with. She was the ideal of his new order although she didn't know it. Certainly Lucius Malfoy with his pedigree and his beauty did not know it. But Lord Voldemort, who had been Tom Riddle, sired by an idiot muggle and left to what mercy there was in the muggle world, knew the truth of what it meant to be a pureblood. It was not about where your blood came from, but what your choices were. 

Being a pureblood wizard was about forsaking the muggle world. It was a refusal to compromise. It was a refusal to make oneself smaller for the sake of the small. 

Muggles had brought their morals into the wizarding world, preaching against the use of magic. And even as they burned us alive, the wizarding world accepted their morals and renounced more and more of our magic. Wizards allowed their magic to be divided into good and evil and then pushed away that part of themselves considered evil. It was a self-mutilation propagated upon the entire wizarding community. But he would fix it. 

Lord Voldemort lay down the final card to complete the tarot pattern. He smiled.

Once he won this war, there would be no distinction made between good magic and evil magic. There would just be magic. And he would force each person to choose: do they live in the wizarding world or in the muggle world, are they wizard or muggle. He would no longer allow these people who divided themselves between two worlds , tainting both, weakening both. 

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**  
When you ask for that favor repaid, I will do my best to do so. However, there are things that I value higher than I do my own honor, my own soul. Although you are in league with You-Know-Who, do not ask me to betray Harry Potter or Albus Dumbledore. For them, I will deny a life debt. Please do not demand that of me.**

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With the tarot reading done, Lord Voldemort settled into his bed to sleep. Everything seemed to be going to plan. All the small details taken care of. He could afford to sleep for a few hours. As he lay in bed with his red eyes lidded, he allowed himself to think about his ultimate goals.

Lord Voldemort did not hate muggles. He hated a few specific muggles, certainly, and those few specific muggles had all died in horribly painful manners with the exception of the few that had died before he got around to them. But as a race, he didn't hate muggles. 

He hated mudbloods. It was those witches and wizards who bridged the society of muggles and wizards that he loathed. They were neither one nor the other, they could never fully reach their potentials and they tried their best to drag everyone else down with them. They forced their silly muggle morals upon wizarding situations. 

He hated blood traitors, those purebloods who protected the muggles, who thought that muggles were mere playthings who could do no harm. Those purebloods had rewritten the history books to disguise the fact that wizards had been caught by muggles before without their wands and had been killed by the burnings. Those blood traitors sent wizarding children to live with abusive muggles because they thought muggles were harmless. 

Lord Voldemort did not hate wizards and he did not hate muggles, he hated those who tried to be both, those who bridged the gap between the two cultures. When he won, there would be no moralizing, no compromising, no hesitating. He would take the worship of the wizarding world and he would force them down the path of true greatness. 

Lord Voldemort had given up much, in this war, but he knew he would win, because in the end, his followers were powerful and his enemies sabotaged their own efforts because of their silly, silly morals.

With such thoughts in his head, the Dark Lord finally drifted off to sleep.

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**  
I thank you with all my heart for what you have given me, and I curse you with all my heart for what you have made me give you. **

Yours truly,

Remus Lupin

former werewolf  



	7. a judas

I own none of these characters.

A/N: I have not yet read book six, but I'm assuming that this story is now even more AU than it was before. Ah well. And, despite the fact that I haven't been responding to any of my reviews, I do love getting them. I even modify my story if a good point is made. (ie. Polar Thestral: I hope chapter six helped rationalize chapter five for you.) Incidentally, there will be a grand total of ten chapters in this fic.

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Icarus

by MarbleGlove

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**Dear Sir,**

**When I first wrote you I did so after a great deal of thought and planning to remain anonymous. You do not have a comfortable or safe reputation.**

**And yet, we have achieved a great thing together in creating a cure for lycanthropy. I would not wish to stop there. You are correct in saying that if we are to direct our further research into finding a cure for your own condition we must meet.**

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Ron looked up from the letter. "Harry. You-Know-Who is asking to meet our Hermione. This is a chance to ambush him. He'd never notice us as our animagi, a horse and a kestrel. Especially if Hermione's distracting him. Do you really want to have the final battle happen whenever He decides? For the past seven years, we've been on the defense. I think it's time to take the offense."

"I know you're right, Ron, but I'm not ready. I can't cast the death curse. I just can't. I try. And I do hate him and I want him dead so badly, but I, I can't get the death curse to work." Harry's shoulders slumped in defeat. There was self-hatred that he couldn't manage to avenge his parents, and protect his friends. They needed him, but of all the powerful and difficult spells he could cast, Avada Kedavra just wasn't one of them.

"Come on, Harry. If you don't kill him, he'll kill you."

"I know!"

Hermione broke into the beginning of the argument. "Avada Kedavra is a high level dark arts spell. There's no reason to believe that Harry should be able to cast something like that."

"But I have to."

Hermione nibbled on her lip for a moment. "No. There are other ways to kills someone. How's your transfiguration coming?"

"Ah. Decent. And we did the animagi training together, remember."

"Ah yes. I can make a spell for you. It would be a variation on the animagi spell, but cast on someone else. It's a less complicated version of the cure spell for lycanthropy." Her eyes were focused on something neither of her friends could see.

The boys looked at each other and then back at her. Ron finally tentatively asked. "What would the spell do?"

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**I think it will please you more than not to know that even as my respect for you has grown, as has my appreciation for what you have done for me, I have never lost my wariness of you. You are a powerful dark lord and the newspapers give weekly accounts of those you have killed or terrorized. And yet, over the course of our correspondence I have come to believe that you do not mean me any harm. This is my belief, but I know perfectly well that I could be wrong.**

**I would like to meet with you, however I do not feel like I can do so without first gaining certain guarantees.**

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Hermione took a deep breath and then went into lecture mode. Looking at the theory helped distract her from the realization of what exactly she was contemplating. "Every person has inside of them maps of what their body should look like. Lycanthropes have double descriptions of their body, one for human form, one for animal form. The animagi spell creates the extra animal map and puts it into you, and then gives you control over which map the body should be reading at any given time. Werewolves have the extra map, but they don't have the control over which map is read."

"Yeah, yeah. I actually understood that much from your article. Neither of us are that incompetent."

"Anyway," Hermione went on rather huffily, ostentatiously ignoring the interruption, "I can develop a spell that will sort of scramble all the information on the body map. We're currently working on a set of spells that would help him refine his body into something more appealing." Hermione wasn't sure which of the two boys snorted at that, but she ignored it anyway and continued.

"A spell that randomly changes information wouldn't be all that hard. The body map then describes something that isn't a viable creature."

"So, so what happens then? Does he turn into a pile of goo?" Harry asked with morbid fascination.

Ron made a grimace of distaste at the mental image but also listened for the answer.

Hermione nibbled once more on her lip in thought. "No. I don't think so. I mean, since you're casting it on someone else it won't be that strong. It won't immediately force the body to change. At least not the basic spell that I'm thinking of. It will just mean that the next time his body has to stabilize itself it won't be able to." She squinted into the distance for a moment and then offered in the manner of one making a concession. "He'll probably have immediate liver and kidney failure."

"Okay. So, you're suggesting we wait around for him to die of kidney or liver failure even though those take weeks to actually kill anyone and they're easily curable? Somehow that doesn't strike me as the most sure fire way to off a powerful wizard."

Hermione casually reached over and smacked Ron lightly upside the head. Her eyes remained focused on something only she could see. "It would mean his body couldn't correct for minor mishaps. And it wouldn't be able to build and control the energy he needs. Any magic on his part would backfire and wind up killing him. He certainly wouldn't be able to successfully cast an unforgivable and he wouldn't survive the attempt. Almost any spell cast on him would send him into system failure. A basic stunning spell should guarantee his death at that point."

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**First, I would meet with you in the Forbidden Forest. I would be accompanied by a horse, Bucephalus. You would, if you wish, be accompanied by your own familiar. If we meet, I will be giving up the anonymity that shields me from you. I would prefer not to give up the anonymity that shields me from the rest of the world.**

**Second, in hopes that you will reciprocate, I give you my own wand oath: I hereby give you my wand oath in writing that should we meet as suggested, during that meeting I will not act against you magically or physically unless it be in self-defense.**

**Because of your greater power, both personally and through those sworn to your service, I need a greater wand oath from you before my nerves are sufficiently soothed. Swear to me that you will not seek to harm me either at this meeting or after. Swear to me that you will not use the knowledge of my identity against me.**

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Ron whistled appreciatively. "There is no way a spell like that isn't illegal."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You do remember that the death curse you were telling me to cast is not only illegal but unforgivable, right?"

"Yeah, but a spell that leaves you alive but weak enough to be killed by any magic either yours or others? I can already see the potential torture scenes of casting it on an enemy and then leaving them."

Hermione was shaking her head though, "No. It's not illegal."

Ron and Harry looked at her with patent disbelief.

Hermione shrugged. "The ministry has a list of illegal spells. This one isn't on it."

"Yeah, but that's because you just made it up. Or are about to make it up. Or whatever. They don't know about it yet, at any rate, so of course it's not on their list yet."

"Doesn't matter. As long as it's not on the list, it's legal. As soon as they find out about it, it'll be put on the list and made illegal, but until that point, it's perfectly legal."

"Blimey, Hermione. Do you mean that you could become a reigning Dark Lord killing all sorts of people and not go to jail for it because you invent the spells?"

Hermione grimaced. "More or less. Yeah. Of course, murder by whatever means is still illegal, but I wouldn't be imprisoned for using dark magic as long as I was careful. And I don't think Harry's going to get in trouble for killing Lord Voldemort."

"You've got a point there. So, Harry, are you up for it? You learn this spell of Hermione's, she writes back to her dear, dear dark lord, and we go and take out You-Know-Who once and for all?"

"I'm up for it." Harry grinned.

"Um, guys. Don't you think you're being a little rash? I mean, going to meet You-Know-Who?"

"Look who's talking. You're the girl who's writing to him."

"Well, yeah. But I didn't intend to ever see him face-to-face."

"Now here's your big chance." Ron and Harry grinned at her. She smiled back rather weakly.

"Yeah. My big chance."

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**I tremble with a mixture of excitement and fear, hope and despair, as I compose this letter. I am unsure whether I desire you to meet these requirements or not. But with those guarantees, I will meet you.**

**Swear an oath and name a date. I will meet you then.**

**Yours, with utmost respect,**

**Icarus**


	8. a loss

* * *

* * *

I own none of these characters. 

_A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to post. I actually had stuff to do in the real world. Amazing, no?_

A/N: So I finally read HBP. It was a great deal of fun and sure enough this story is now even more AU than it was before. Still, I hope you all enjoy. I rather think I'm going to annoy/anger/disappoint some readers with this chapter. As a preemptive defense I would remind the reader that there are two chapters after this one before the story is complete. Actually, given various circumstances of real life, I think I'm going to post all three final chapters at once. Phew.

Thanks to my sister for beta-ing these last three chapters. 

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Icarus  
by MarbleGlove

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**Dear Diary,**

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I'm too energized to sleep but too frazzled to concentrate on anything important. I haven't kept a diary for years, and I'll probably have to destroy this as soon as I finish writing it, but hopefully just getting my thoughts down onto paper will help. 

The Boy Who Lived killed You Know Who.   
  
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Studying the dark arts was a dangerous and often fatal enterprise. Those who survived did so by achieving a supreme arrogance. To falter or hesitate was to sign one's own death certificate. Of course, those who died in the attempt also did so by achieving a supreme arrogance such that they got themselves into the situations that killed them. 

Studying the dark arts never became safe, but it instilled in its practitioners an odd mixture of paranoia of threat and contempt for those threats. They saw the possibility for ambushes everywhere and they knew themselves to be impervious to those ambushes. 

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**  
It's caught everybody rather off guard, which is kind of funny but not really. It didn't happen in a climactic battle between good and evil, there weren't battle lines drawn up or innocent lives at stake. It was an ambush and a betrayal and a death. And then the rest of the night lying about what actually happened.**

There are four people who know the truth and one of them was the Dark Lord who's now dead. Then there's me, Harry, and Ron. 

We slipped quietly out of the castle, I met the Dark Lord face to face and it was wonderful. I was so scared and I really hoped that Harry would attack immediately. But he didn't and so the Dark Lord and I sat down and discussed ways of using arithmancy to analyze DNA sequences, or possibly even produce some. 

I had never seen Lord Voldemort before, although Harry described him as ugly and snakelike with red eyes. I suppose that's all true, but it's also true that he was beautiful and elegant in his extreme emaciation, like an Erté sketch. Grotesque when considered a human, but enthralling when thought of as something completely unique and other. He used his hands when he spoke. It was almost like he was casting a spell as he spoke in his hoarse soprano murmur. Perhaps he was.

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Lord Voldemort knew that both he and Icarus, his correspondent, were walking a very thin line. The danger to him was in confiding anything to an unknown individual who had not sworn loyalty. There was a good chance that Icarus originated from the side of the wizarding world that opposed Lord Voldemort. 

Icarus was more deeply enmeshed in danger, however. She shared the danger of confiding in a little-understood individual, and this one was known to be the current dark lord. And Icarus' danger was compounded by the seduction inherent in the dark arts, the taint that could not be avoided.

The entire wizarding world searched for the answer to the question: who had developed the cure for lycanthropy? With Icarus' dabbling in the dark arts, it was certain that she could not have told anyone what she was doing. No one could be relied on to hold a confidence when confronted with the temptation of fame for presenting the knowledge to the public or the position of moral superiority by presenting the information to the Ministry Auror department. Icarus could have no recourse of support from others. She would have been betrayed long before if she had tried to depend on the weak ties of friendship. It would be unnecessary then for Lord Voldemort to appear with minions of his own. He would meet with Icarus one on one. 

Of the two of them, one was an experienced practitioner of the dark arts and one was a novice. If there were to be an ambush or betrayal, Lord Voldemort felt confident that he could return it with interest. 

And he prepared a much more insidious ambush of his own. 

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**Sometime during our talk I finally succumbed to temptation and fell in love with him. I'm not even sure what love is but I gave it to him. But it was too late, the ambush was already in motion, I was just the bait, and then there was Harry and the spell was cast. I hadn't even noticed Harry before that, and I'm glad I didn't because I'm not sure whether I would have warned the Dark Lord or not. Love is different from loyalty after all, but which would have proved to be the stronger?**

The Dark Lord recognized the spell. Not specifically, of course, but enough to know that he could not use magic without endangering himself. I saw the realization come even as the spell struck him. With no warning, he could not dodge the spell; with no previous knowledge, he could not have preset personal wards. The spell hit, took effect, and turned him into a walking dead man. He was furious and he gripped his wand tightly, but he didn't attempt to raise magic. He snarled at me but then turned his back on me as if I were nothing, and he and Harry just stared at each other. Ron had to transform back into human to prompt Harry to cast the final stunning spell. 

It probably added insult to injury that he was finally taken down by such a minor spell as that. 

I cried, and Harry apologized for taking so long and swore that he would never have allowed harm to come to me. I was harmed. I was seduced and I fell, and maybe I didn't have time to betray my principles with any act, but I certainly betrayed them with my thoughts.   
  
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Lord Voldemort had a variety of ways he used to bring people to his side. Over the past many years he had used a mixture of threat and bribery. He had sufficient power and sufficient reputation at this point that both were believable.

But when he had been young and beautiful he had occasionally used different means. 

_Imperio_ was not good enough when you wanted a follower who was both smart and powerful. The stronger coercive potions either caused irreparable damage to the subject or were obvious when used and had simple antidotes. Fate had sent Icarus to him with subtle direction and he would have to keep her with control. 

Thus, it was little more than a pheromone that he created and rubbed onto his hands and face. Softly, softly, he would coax her to take that one last step into his life, his world, his control. 

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**And then we had to go back to the castle, trailed by the Dark Lord's body in mobulicorpus. We double-checked our story on the way back. We had gone out together to practice our animagi forms. Then we could apologize profusely for having illegal animagi forms and for leaving school grounds. And try to avoid rolling our eyes at the insincerity of our own apologies. And while we were out, Harry had been twitchy and seen something out of the corner of his eye and cast a stunning spell without thought. **

The evidence all showed that he died from a stunning spell. The Aurors summoned were confused and unhappy that their most feared enemy had been so easily killed. But there is no evidence that my killing curse was cast. They think it was the Dark Lord's own mistake making him weak. 

I suppose in a way, it was. He made me his weakness, and I used it. The history books will describe him as a failure, and I am perhaps the only person alive today who recognizes him as the greatest wizard of our times.   
  
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Lord Voldemort spent days simmering in anticipation of his meeting with Icarus. He would have to be wary at first, but soon he would have her as his new apprentice, his new follower. 

Soon, soon, he would meet her and see who Icarus truly was.

Soon, soon, who she truly was would be his.

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**I miss him already. **

Hermione  


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	9. a death

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I own none of these characters. __

A/N: Thanks to my sister for beta-ing.

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Icarus  
by MarbleGlove

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**Dear Icarus,**

After the publication of your paper co-authored with Lord Voldemort, the Ministry included your name on the list of Death Eaters to be tracked down and imprisoned. However, I can protect you. If you come to me at Hogwarts, I can guarantee your safety. 

Given the state of Lord Voldemort's body when we retrieved it, it is clear that his body map was sabotaged in some way. A clear argument can be made that you are a hero rather than a criminal. It would be best, though, if it's made soon, at the height of the celebrations.

I look forward to meeting you face to face.

Your friend,

Albus Dumbledore

Order of Merlin, First Class  
Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards  
Headmaster of Hogwarts  
  
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Hermione was alone in her room. But still the room seemed alive around her with the blazing fire and the resulting shadows that flickered across the walls. The crackling fire could almost have been talking to her. The night outside her window was still and quiet, and it seemed like her room was the only definite place in a world of desolation. It was a silly thought. In the morning, there would be people and places and activity and noise. If there were not, then the sacrifice she was currently making would be unnecessary. 

She had betrayed the Dark Lord, arranging his death, and for that death she mourned. But it was quick and it was relatively painless. It had been over in a few minutes. 

Now she was committing one more murder, and this one was neither quick nor painless. It would take weeks, months, maybe even years to be complete.

Now she was killing Icarus.

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**Dear Icarus,**

It has been some weeks since I have last heard from you. My offer of protection still stands. You may ask for it at any time.

Even if you decide to remain anonymous and hunted, I would like to continue our correspondence. The research you have done is quite groundbreaking, and I am interested in following what you are doing. 

I know that Lord Voldemort acted as your primary mentor and guide, but now that he is gone I would like to offer myself in his place. I cannot imagine that someone with a mind like yours would not wish to continue on your path of discovery.

I look forward to your next letter.

Your friend,

Albus Dumbledore

Master of Transfiguration  
Master of Alchemy  
Master of Defense Against the Dark Arts  
Headmaster of Hogwarts  
  
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Icarus was dead.

Only three people knew this for certain so far: Hermione, Harry and Ron. Hermione had extracted wand oaths from both Harry and Ron to the effect that they would never tell anyone about Icarus, about Hermione's correspondence with the Dark Lord, or the curse that Hermione had created for Harry's use. 

Hermione accepted that she had lost something of who she had once been when she had been unsatisfied with their simple promises to never betray her. She had demanded an unbreakable wand oath. Her friends had been hurt that she didn't trust their given word, and she had wanted to trust them so much. But that didn't change the fact that she did not. Hopefully by the time they forgave her, she would forgive herself.

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**Dear Icarus,**

It is as though you have fallen off the edge of the world. You are a great man and well respected, as well as feared. Every werewolf in Britain and Europe is in your debt, and every great pureblood family that contained a werewolf owes you their thanks. It is unnecessary cruelty to leave them uncertain as to where their debt lies. 

Given them some sign of what you want in return. They will strive to give it to you. 

Please, give some thought to ending their suspense.

Your friend,

Albus Dumbledore

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As time had gone by, and as the theories she had worked on had advanced and developed, her correspondences had expanded as well. She had routinely written to Dumbledore, but had also sporadically responded to other mail that she had received. Fan mail and hate mail and questions and gifts continued to come, but Hermione no longer responded to anything. 

There was so much to feel guilty for that she felt overwhelmed by it, and in the end numbed to it. Nothing she did turned out the way she thought it would. Every letter she got, she read and it made her all the more certain that the only thing she could do now was to stop. She could not fix what she had done, she could not change it, she could not make it better. The only thing she could do was not make it worse. 

She had finally reached too close to the sun and it had taken her a few days to realize that she had crashed. Her wings had finally failed her, and though she had survived the plummet back to the ground, she knew she would never fly again.

And Icarus was not Icarus without that ability, she was just Hermione.

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**Dear Icarus,**

I am concerned. I have heard nothing from you for several months now. Are you all right? 

Please send me some sign that you are still alive.

Your worried correspondent,

Albus Dumbledore

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Now Hermione stayed up late into the night and slowly burned Icarus to death, one sheet of parchment at a time.

All of her correspondence, all of her notes, all of her thoughts. All her knowledge slowly crumpling and going up the chimney in little bright sparks. The fire was hot on her face, and she welcomed the burning sensation because it distracted from the wrenching of her heart.

It was sacrilegious to destroy knowledge, but that's what she was determined to do. 

It could not be done completely. Surely the Dark Lord had kept his notes and his half of their correspondence somewhere, and surely Dumbledore had done the same. But for her part, it was over. It was done.

As the sun rose, and light began to creep in through the window, the fire finally began to burn down. It had finished its task. 

Icarus was dead and gone. 

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**Dear Icarus,**

Please write to me.

Albus

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	10. a potential

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I own none of these characters. __

A/N: This chapter is the most obviously AU since it does not acknowledge any of the information about Horcruxes that we learned in HBP. Ah well. 

Thanks to my sister for beta-ing. 

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Icarus  
by MarbleGlove

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**Dear Icarus,**

I suppose I should apologize for inconveniencing you. Given the rules of the Post Coop and the fact that the book accompanying this letter is quite magical, you will have had to pick it up yourself. I also imagine that it was a nerve-wracking venture, looking for any curses I might have placed on it and failing to find them. However, I do not apologize.

If you are receiving this package, then I am dead while you still live. If the world were perfect, then I will have won the final battle and finally taken you as my most honored prisoner. And yet, despite my knowledge and despite my power, I know that failure is possible and I am preparing for that eventuality.  
  
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Sweat collected on Hermione's face and the back of her neck as she unpacked all of her boxes. Her hair was up in a sloppy bun held with her wand. She felt naked if she didn't have it on or near her, but she refused to use it without real cause. Thus she had carried all of her boxes up the stairs in the muggle manner: with panted breath, aching muscles, and sweat. 

Deciding how to arrange everything in her new eight-by-ten-foot dorm room helped keep her mind occupied. She studiously avoided thinking about the one small book tucked away on the bottom shelf of her bookcase that was not a textbook. 

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**I find myself unsure how to label you. I have a suspicion as to your identity and if I am correct, then you are my enemy. Yet, as I read over our correspondence, I realize that I consider you my friend, perhaps my only friend. Of all those I respect and am respected by in turn, you alone have not sworn your loyalty to me. You have maintained your self-will, but still we converse. It is to you, then, that I send my last journal. **

Like all of my journals, it contains my memories. It is you who have perfected the manner of creating a body to go along with a spirit, and I believe that I have taught you the means of creating a spirit inside a body. With the memories of this journal, you have the means to resurrect me.

I know you well enough to know that you will not do this immediately. But I also know that you will not destroy this possibility. Perhaps you will lock the journal away in your Gringotts vault. Perhaps you will place it amongst your old second-year textbooks as a reminder of the past. But you will keep it safe, I know.   
  
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The Ministry of Magic had provided her with papers proving that she had attended school for the past seven years in a ministry-affiliated educational program, but they were a bit vague on the details of what she had studied. Her results on the correspondence course in biology had also helped her. But it had still taken a small suggestion spell to get Hermione accepted into the muggle university of her choice. 

It was cheating, she knew it, and she had done it anyway, but she was determined that it would be the last time. From now on, she would succeed as a muggle and advance by her own merit. 

This was to be her fresh start.

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**It will take a while, but eventually Harry Potter, who, if I am dead, will have killed me, will begin to wonder how things could have been different. He will wonder if there was not perhaps a better way to deal with me, a way that did not involve him becoming a murderer. He will wonder, and you will reassure him that he did the right thing. But eventually you will murmur that perhaps there is a way to undo what he has done, a way to unmake him a murderer. And you will think of this journal I have sent to you and you will have all the knowledge necessary to remake me and undo the murder that killed me.**

I wonder what your reasons will be when you think to bring me back to life. Will it be a need to reassure your friend that he is not evil? Will you have missed our correspondence so much? Will it be because you have finally had too much of the wizarding world and want it punished as much as I? Or will it be some other reason that I have not thought of?

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Her parents were happy. They could now visit and call her whenever they wanted and didn't have to wait for her to contact them first or find some other wizard or witch to escort them past the anti-muggle wards that surrounded the various wizarding enclaves. 

And Hermione was beginning to realize that her father had been right when he told her that the world was larger than the wizarding world. She had been so caught up in the fight that she hadn't realized that the Voldemort war wasn't a world war, it was just a gang war. It was a war between two small minorities hidden inside a large city. 

She had gotten caught up in a gang war, but now it was over and she had her chance to escape that entire world. It was a chance she was taking. She wouldn't let herself be caught up in the anger and violence that such a small, intense society seemed incapable of avoiding. 

There was peace awaiting her in the greater world. 

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I find that in writing to you, in placing my trust in you, I am calmed. The final battle will be soon and while I plan to win, I find that I am not scared of dying. What terrifies me most is the idea that I will win at the cost of a battle that leaves behind your lifeless body. I do not think you are preparing a journal for my keeping though in this instance I am trustworthy. 

If my worst fears come true, then I will collect all the pictures there are of you, your body, our correspondence, everything that has captured a little bit of your essence and I will have a great portrait painted, an attempt to see you whole from the little pieces that you will have left behind. I promise to give you what immortality I can.  
  
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Her old life was over, and while she would keep her wand and her friends, she had no intention of living in the world of magic again. She had betrayed it, and it had betrayed her, and she couldn't bear to be who she was when she was there. 

The muggle world was where she was born and it would be where she died. She would study medicine and perhaps her knowledge of magical means of transformation would help her study the science of genetics. But it was science that she would study, and it was muggles whom she would hopefully help.

She didn't think about the small book tucked away on the bottom shelf of her bookcase. 

Neither did she destroy it.

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**  
The dawn is breaking. I must go.**

I plan to live forever, but if I die, I know that this last piece of me will remain safe in your keeping.

I remain always,

Lord Voldemort

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The End

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